Thanksgiving Protector - Sharon Dunn Mills & Boon Love Inspired Suspense

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was at stake.

      Austin rolled down the window. “You want me to do the driving? One less thing you got to think about.”

      The tension coiling through her chest eased up a bit. Austin’s presence and solid instincts had that effect on her when they were working together. But this wasn’t work. The mission was personal. And he was still here to support her. That made her like him even more. “That sounds like a great idea.” She tossed him the keys.

      She slipped into the passenger seat and gave him Valentina’s address. Kylie had never been to Valentina’s place. That would have been too risky. When Valentina had information for her, they met in busy public places. But this was the plan they had discussed for the worst-case scenario. Valentina wanted this plan in place almost from the time she had approached Kylie about being an informant. Kylie’s heart ached over the loss of her friend.

      “Lot of gang activity in that part of town,” he said as they pulled into traffic.

      She nodded. Not everyone there was a criminal, though. Like Valentina, so many were just people trying to get by and raise their families, unable to afford anything safer.

      They passed city streets where men and women spilled out from bars, some of them standing around, some of them fighting. The glow of neon lights flashed across the windshield. Tension knotted through her as gunfire sounded in the distance. She couldn’t have done this alone. “Thank you for coming with me.”

      “How did you meet your informant?”

      A heaviness settled into her chest as the memories flooded through her mind. “At church.”

      He nodded. “Do you both sing in the choir?”

      “How did you know I sing in the choir?” It was Kylie’s turn to do a double take. “We go to the same church?”

      “I sit in the back. I leave right when the service is over.” He grinned as he stared straight ahead. “Yeah, I’m one of those guys.” Austin was a serious man who rarely smiled. His whole face lit up when he did. “The back-bench dweller, that’s me.”

      “The important thing is that you go,” Kylie said. This side of Austin was a surprise. At work, he came across as a confident man who knew his job and did it well, but he never talked about personal matters. She hadn’t even realized he was a believer. So they’d been going to the same church all this time. Maybe in social settings he was a much shyer man.

      “Guess I feel a little out of place at church.” He leaned closer to the windshield, probably looking for a street name. “You sit in the same seat every Sunday though, after you’re done singing. Creature of habit.”

      So he had noticed her at church. She wanted to ask him why he felt out of place, but as private as he was, it would probably be too probing a question. “You should say hi to me sometime instead of just staring at the back of my head.”

      Austin nodded and let out a one-syllable laugh.

      They passed several buildings with murals painted on them—something this part of town was famous for.

      Austin turned down a street that had no streetlights. The pavement changed to dirt road. The area consisted of rundown adobe houses and two apartment buildings that looked badly in need of repair. Some of the windows were boarded up, shot out or had gang symbols graffiti all over them. One man came to the door and watched them as they rolled by, his gaze as cold as steel. Most people probably hid inside at this hour, doors bolted against the violence.

      Kylie pointed. “It must be the apartment building at the end of the street.”

      Loud music with an intense bass beat erupted from a side street. Austin eased the car off the road, turned off the ignition and killed the lights.

      “Stay down,” he said. “This could be fine, but let’s not take any chances.”

       THREE

      Kylie crouched down below the dashboard. Driving the border patrol vehicle only made them a bigger target in this neighborhood. Her hand brushed over her gun as her pulse thudded in her eardrums. If they were faced with gang activity, they would not have the firepower to get out alive.

      Austin kept his head low, as well. The music swelled to full volume. The whole street seemed to be pounding. The vibrations shook their car. Through the open window, she heard the dissonant harmony of men verbally jousting with each other in Spanish. A single gunshot echoed along the street.

      Austin rolled the window up. The windows had wire mesh on them to protect them when people threw rocks at them, which happened a lot. But that wouldn’t prevent them from being dragged out into the street and shot.

      Kylie flinched at the gunshot but maintained her composure.

      Austin peered above the dashboard. “Just shooting in the air.” His voice never lost that calming tone. “Showing off their machismo.”

      They waited for what seemed like forever until the music and the drunken conversation died away altogether. The men must have gone inside one of the buildings.

      Austin sat back up and drove the car forward toward the building where little Mercedes was being kept safe...she hoped.

      He shifted into Park. “Let’s make this fast.” They got out of the car. They were so close to the border, Kylie could hear the traffic rushing by on the Cesar Chavez Highway.

      “She’s on the second floor. Apartment twenty-seven.” Valentina had an arrangement with an older woman named Doris to watch the baby while she was at classes. Hopefully, that was who was with the baby now.

      They hurried into the building past the debris of old newspapers, heaping plastic bags, broken toys. Kylie’s heart raced as she took the stairs two at a time. Austin came up behind her. She stood in front of apartment twenty-seven. She knocked twice. No answer.

      She turned the knob and called inside as fear gripped her heart. She dared not cry out, just in case someone with ill intent waited inside. What if they were too late? What if the same people who killed Valentina had already gone after her baby?

      She stepped across the threshold. Austin had already drawn his weapon. The kitchen was run-down but neat. Clean dishes were stacked in the cupboards with no doors. The worn linoleum floor was mopped. There was something poignant about the Thanksgiving centerpiece in the middle of the table. Sorrow washed over Kylie. Valentina had really tried to make a nice home for her baby.

      Kylie drew her attention to a pattern of holes on the wall, a spray of bullets. Her throat went tight.

      Austin cupped her shoulder. “Those bullet holes could have been there for years.”

      How was he able to pick up on her distress like that?

      She turned a slow half circle, looking for hiding places.

      Please, God, let that little girl be here and safe.

      The apartment was small. She saw a closed door off to the right that must be a bedroom. She pulled her gun as she made her way toward it. Austin stayed close.

      She eased the door open. The room consisted of a mat and blankets on the floor next to a stack of textbooks. There was no sign of a crib or basket for a baby.

      “We have to find that little girl. I’m not going to break my promise to Valentina.”

      “Sometimes in dangerous neighborhoods, people have hiding places.” Austin paced the perimeter of the room, stopping to stare at the closet. He tapped on the walls until the sound changed inside the closet. He leaned in, pulling a thin panel out of place.

      Kylie saw what was probably a hot water heater. She pulled her flashlight from her belt just as a baby’s cry erupted in the darkness. Her heart surged with joy at the sound. She shone the light on a gray-haired woman holding a bundle wrapped in a pink blanket.

      Kylie

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